Assassin's Creed: Temporal Shift
by tylerbamafan34
Summary: Cover image by BMFreed on Deviantart. Desmond had no idea how he wound up in Victorian London of all places, but he had a sneaking suspicion the First Civ was somehow involved. They usually were. Still, he'd need help to get back to his own time. And who better for that than the 'devilish Frye twins'. AU timetravel fic. Hopefully different to what you've seen before.


Assassin's Creed: Temporal Shift

 **AN: This idea is pretty new. I know vaguely where i want to take this story and getting there will be … interesting. I'm still working out the details and trying to figure out what the end game is going to be like. I had this idea… what if Desmond was sent back in time to the events of Assassin's Creed Syndicate? What would change? What role would he play?**

 **I currently have no real idea what the options are pairing wise, and if you can give me a good reason why 'this or that pairing would work i will consider your opinion. fair warning though?I will not** _ **guarantee**_ **a romance at all, I am not opposed to the idea but I am not for it either. I will not write slash. No offense to the homosexualls out there but I'm sticking to canon characterizations where applicable and in canon Desmond is heterosexual. Please respect my choice on this matter, as it is not likely to change.**

 **I still don't have a beta reader for this, anyone want's to help please send me a pm. Anyone knowledgeable about London in that time period is preferred. I want to do right by Assassin's Creed and that means getting my facts straight. Thing is, its harder than it sounds.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's Creed or any affiliated titles. They are the property of Ubisoft Montreal(™)**

 **Prologue: Asylum**

It was not often that Florence found herself as flummoxed as she had that day. Not since her days wandering the Battlefield had she been so hard pressed to help a patient if only because she had _no earthly idea how to help._

She gently wiped his forehead with a cold cloth, worry filling her as the strange glow formed around his temples again. This had happened every few hours ever since they'd found the stranger.

The day had started out ordinarily enough. She had risen with the sun in her Lambeth home for a small breakfast before hurrying to the small hospital she worked for. With the medicine all coming from Soothing Syrup she was having problems procuring other means of healing and sickness was spreading like wildfire. Her place of work and others like it were having more and more to do.

She had then spent the morning making her usual rounds, and one of her fellow nurses had burst into the room. Her hair wild beneath her bonnet and her clothes distinctly ruffled "Miss Nightingale come quick! He needs help."

Without even a moment to put her tray down, she'd been pulled by the hand and out of the door and through the narrow streets and alleys of London. They were -as always- crowded with all kinds of people, Everything from merchants to gang members -there was apparently a war brewing between the Blighters and BLinkers, a senseless conflict to rival even the Crimean Wars- It was a brief run that seemed to take far longer than what she was familiar with. She supposed that was the excitement and slight dread of what she might find there. What they found however, was different to what she was expecting. He was long and lean with darker skin. His hair was close shaven and he wore what appeared to be an odd version of a monk's robe, and slacks made of a material she'd never seen before. Her eyes narrowed slightly, noticing the leather brace on his wrist. What surprised her most however, was the faint corona of light that pulsed briefly before fading. This wrenched a small scream from the man.

"Good God." Florence breathed rushing over, carefully stepping around some wooden scaffolding and debri from earlier in the week. "Thea, come help me move him."

As she and Thea turned him onto his back, she found that the skin around his torso was scalding, and as Florence checked his breathing, finding it thready and erratic. With growing alarm, she rounded on Thea "Get the boys down here now." she said sternly "let's get him back to the Workhouse."

"Yes madam, of course."

Which led her to now, as the sun lowered below the horizon she found herself wondering for what felt like the thousandth time who he was, and where he came from. She liked to think she knew just about everyone in Lambeth at least passingly and the fact that she had no idea who this man was presented a mystery. One she was _very_ interested in solving

"How is he?" Florence jumped slightly "Gracious Robert you startled me."

Robert was the proprietor of the Workhouse, his clean cut grey suit and sharp classically handsome features left him with a decent attractiveness despite getting older at fifty five years. He was genuinely a kind soul, a regrettable rarity in this day and age. "Such, was not my intention I assure you." he reassured stepping through the door and around beds and other furnitures "I've merely come to check up on our mystery guest."

Florence sighed "Well, he's stable. There is that at least. This seems to be a simple -if rather severe- fever that even now his body seems to be fighting off. I'd say he should recover within a couple of days, and be up on his feet on Wednesday."

"Good," he said, turning the man's arm over and revealing the wickedly sharp blade that was still attached to his right wrist. "I have many questions for him."

Florence smiled " _That_ , is something we can both agree on."


End file.
